


Quicksand

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22518007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Leo’s miserable even at Club Eden.
Relationships: Leo Manfred/Markus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Quicksand

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s not quite high, but he’s simmering, mind foggy enough to justify dropping the price of a few grams on a night of different pleasures. He strolls through the neon doors to flashing images of plastic girls in skimpy clothes, and his gaze flickers over each doll in their glossy cages, but none of them are what he’s looking for. He lingers in the lobby, watches the gyrating dancer on the pole, and slowly meanders into the different rooms, hoping that what he wants is right around the corner. He reads a few signs just in case that ephemeral thing can be manufactured—maybe he can take a model that’s close enough and have them alter their skin, their eyes, their hair, maybe even bone structure. Not that they have _bones_. Leo knows exactly what he’s dealing with.

He knows every Traci in the club is just a glorified fleshlight. They’re all dead behind the eyes. They don’t even feign interest well. Maybe they’d be more enticing if they did. Maybe Leo wants one to come up to him and actually _want_ him.

That’d be too much to ask. He doesn’t have enough money to buy that fantasy. He can barely afford one Traci for half an hour, but he’s willing to blow that cash if they’re _just right._

If they look like Markus. But none of them do. He’s never seen another Markus model. His dad said Markus was a prototype: a special gift from the man who single-handedly destroyed Detroit. Maybe Leo could get another android to answer to the name. Maybe he could turn them around and dim the lights enough to not notice all the imperfections. They’d still be _different_. He doesn’t have any recordings of Markus they could modulate their voices to. If the android couldn’t look at him, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even hold him because the mannerisms would be wrong, then what’s the point?

Leo putters to a stop in front of a vacant room. The glowing letters tell him he could slip in at any time. He could take any of the Tracis with them—he could take multiple Tracis. He wishes he had a picture of Markus on his phone. Maybe it’d make it easier for them to imitate him. But there’d be no way to get that picture without revealing that maybe Leo finds Markus sort of handsome and maybe some of his ire comes from jealousy and denial. Maybe he hates that his father has a smarter, stronger, _prettier_ son. His father always was a shallow man. His mother always said that. She admired it: loved the way he so understood _aesthetics_. Leo hates everything. 

He looks at the nearest android, locked behind a wall of glass. The android looks at him for half a second, then flickers dully away. There’s nothing there. Leo realizes that it wouldn’t be enough. Even if one of them did look like Markus, he doesn’t just want to fuck up into Markus’ perfect body. 

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine what he _does_ want, because he doesn’t even know himself. His fists clench at his sides, and he imagines that’s how they’d be if he ever approached Markus without his father around, because Markus just makes him so damn _tense_. Puts him right on edge. But Markus is always so _calm_ , voice so soft and tone so easy, no matter how angry Leo gets. Markus would be gentle like that through all of Leo’s spluttering. Markus would stroll up to him, reach out and gently cup his face, stroke his cheek and know _exactly_ what he really wanted.

He thinks Markus would push him down onto the bed, guide his legs open, and climb between them. Markus is probably a top. Or maybe a switch. He’d probably bear over Leo and soothe all the fury away, understand and ease Leo’s resentment. Then Markus would take him slow and sweet, and Leo would probably still snap little things here and there but mostly just sob, because he’s never felt _loved_ before. Markus would be an angel like that.

And Leo’s a rat crawling around a sex club. He opens his eyes and feels sick with himself. He knows how much depth there is to Markus but pretends there’s nothing. All the dolls around him are _nothing_. Fucking them would be even more pathetic than when he fucks into his own hand and murmurs Markus’ name into the other. 

Leo swallows. He asks himself for the millionth time what he’s doing with his life. He leaves, ashamed.


End file.
